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Greetings From the Dystopia: We Cannot Live in the Moment

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog PostsLeave a comment

Last weekend I went to a club for a Saturday night out. There is a very specific excitement when going out on Saturday. The preparation, picking something nice to wear, or styling your hair. Sitting in the Uber with anticipation for the numerous open possibilities you’re about to experience. Wondering who you will meet, what you will see. It’s patio season and warming up, more people will be venturing out. Nothing matters except where you are going. There is a palpable sense of adventure as you leave your ride and step through those doors. The night becomes yours.

Then there are Saturday nights like this one. When you walk in and realize it’s very empty. After getting a drink and doing a survey of the room, I went to the patio and it was quiet outside too. Those who were there were sitting at tables, talking. It was social, but not exactly lively. Not unusual for an early hour in the night. I went inside to sit with my drink and watch the music videos playing on screen, feeling a little lost.

Then three friends I know showed up. Finally, some familiar faces to get the night started. I joined them and caught up for a bit. They comment on the club being empty and then the phones come out. Suddenly I’m the only one in our circle looking at the people in front of me and not a screen. Conversation shifted from a dialogue exchange to parallel monologues. I tried asking questions to engage them, these were friends after all. But it felt like I was a distraction for whatever they were watching or sharing among each other. Conversation with me was their un-skippable ad.

One of them suggested we go to the patio to see if it was busier outside. Yes, I thought, the energy outside will draw them back to reality! We walked out and stood at the edge of the vacant dance floor. Within moments, one of them commented how it was still empty on the patio. The phones come out again. It’s the strangest irony, standing in a group but not interacting. I glanced around at other clusters of friends and noticed how engaged they were with each other.

A couple that my friends knew came over and joined us. Great, I thought, more people means they’ll snap out of it and socialize! Nope. Once they joined the group, the couple brought their phones out too. They’re multiplying. As the patio became more crowded, I was pushed outside of the circle by the rush of passing people. When the group would converse with one another, they had their phones gripped in their hands at their side, holding on for dear life. And here I was watching from the fringe with my phone in my pocket.

All I could think was, why did they even come out tonight? They chose to spend their night in a social setting only to be completely disengaged. Was I the only one noticing this contradiction? I realized I was simply the odd one out in this group. I looked around and allowed myself to take in the environment around me, to live in the moment.

The atmosphere at the club was near ethereal. The buzz of conversation, the laughing, the lights. There is something so singular about being there. This is an experience, a sensation, I can only get here. I come out for moments like this. I realized that for my friends I only existed in the periphery. I decided to break off from the group and socialize on my own the rest of the night.

This experience made me realize how difficult it now is for people to live in the moment. It goes beyond recording concerts with our phones. We will leave our houses, go to a social setting, stand in a group with friends, yet not interact with them. We’re too busy posting on social media about being at the club or scrolling through people and places we’d rather be. The very act of socializing, one meant to be personal, has become superficial. The goal isn’t to be social, but to be seen as social.

I know I’m not immune. I lose plenty of time scrolling too, and I know you’re reading this on a device. However, given the effort I put into having a night out, I want to spend it interacting with people. There is a sadness that strikes me when seeing how the very act of socializing has become superficial. It makes me worry that this loss of connection with others will never be recovered. If it ever returns, send me the link so I can watch it. Maybe this is just the dystopia we live in.

On The Scene: Evading Mardi Gropes

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

It seems fitting to write about this year’s Mardi Gras, considering the first ever entry of this series took place on Mardi Gras. This year, it was a Saturday night beginning with a Rum and Coke. I needed to kick myself into gear with caffeine if I was to again surround myself with day drinkers stumbling into night drinking. A friend and I attended Rehab’s drag show. It was even bigger and better than a normal Saturday show. There was a group performance from the queens, the patio was packed to almost Pride weekend level. The negative to such a crowd size is that returning inside for another drink becomes an Odyssean task. However, it was one I chose to take on. When you go to enough packed clubs, you learn you have to forego gentle courtesies to get through a tight crowd.

After returning with a new drink, I saw a teetering drunk guy seemingly flirting and playfully touching my friend. We’ll call the guy Gropes MaGee. My friend had the grace to kindly pat him on the shoulder to brush him off and Gropes MaGee turned around to resume watching the show. Later, when the patio became too smoky for my friend and too overwhelmingly crowded for me, we moved over to Just John. For those unfamiliar, there is a pattern on Saturday nights where the crowd flocks to Rehab for the drag show before anywhere else. Once that is over at ten o’clock, many of them will migrate over to Just John. I will often head over early once I feel too overwhelmed by the crowd. Ducking out early also helps avoid waiting in line for Just John.

Once there, the atmosphere was much calmer and less crowded. Once we got our drinks, I turned to scan the room and noticed another friend I had not seen in a while. We will call him Butch, for his having a buzz cut. It is even self-proclaimed by him. Judging his demeanor, Butch was obviously inebriated. Erasing all doubt was him directly saying to me he was drunk as we hugged. Then he turned and introduced me to who he was hanging out with. It was Gropes MaGee, still wasted and still flirty.

Butch was kind and introduced me with compliments and I returned the sentiments. But Gropes MaGee’s first response was to say I was cute. Butch, who I’m certain was well intentioned, agreed and only stoked the energy in Gropes MaGee. I became alarmingly conscious that surrounding me were two very intoxicated people and behind me, pressing into my back, was the cold, uncaring countertop of the bar. A moment later, Gropes MaGee tried putting his hand in my pants. I was able to grab it and push it away before any contact was made. It’s amazing to me someone can be drunk off balance yet so precise in their reach.

Not waiting for another lesson in drunken dexterity, I told Butch I was going to walk around and discreetly left to the patio with my friend. I really hated that I had to miss spending time with Butch, but that was not a tolerable situation. Outside we discussed how the same man had tried to grab us and my friend said he recognized Gropes Magee and had been ready to step in at any moment. As we were trying to decompress, I noticed a woman nearby ambling around and mumbling something over and over. We’ll call her Super Soaker. I wouldn’t have been concerned, but she kept very intently staring at me. I could see she was drunk, but wanted to be sure she wasn’t in distress or trying to tell me something. I stepped over and asked what she was saying. She yelled, “predators!” before throwing her water at me and a second throw at my friend. My shirt was wet. My friend, being much shorter than I, was less fortunate and was splashed in the face. I was grateful it was only water.

An acquaintance of Super Soaker ran over and apologized, got us napkins to dry with, and offered to buy us drinks. I declined, as I already had a drink and just wanted to move away from the incident. For my friend, that was the moment the night was over. He quickly secured a ride home and left. after his departure, I a walked around the bar in hopes of finding Butch again. Both he and Gropes MaGee were gone. Luckily, I saw group of friends that I usually meet up with here for dancing. I caught up with them and described the night’s events. One of them responded, “Welcome to Mardi Gras!” Once the dancefloor filled in, we joined it and danced the night away.

I had one final interaction that night, with the guy acquainted with Super Soaker. We passed each other and he profusely apologized again. I took the opportunity to ask questions. He said he hadn’t known her before her that night. Apparently, she had made a sexual advance and he turned her down. And that is when she began saying “predators” over and over. He then segued into a strange tangent. He told me he’s straight, but very open minded. He continued on about how he’s had sex with a man and enjoyed it, but tried kissing and decided he was not into men. I failed to see why he felt the need to share that with me. I had not asked him about his sexuality. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, maybe he was trying to disassociate himself from Super Soaker.

However, he spoke with a level of self importance. As if proving how “open minded” he is was an endorsement for his moral character to a stranger. I replied with the first comment I could think of, “it’s good to be open minded!” I should have asked if that was his bid for the Nobel Peace Prize for charitable endeavors improving relations between the straight and gay communities. How lucky we are to have such an ally.

In the end, I considered myself as leaving the night unscathed. Gropes MaGee was averted, a questionably straight guy got an ego boost, and water stains quickly dry out. The only stain remaining was the knowledge that everyone is truly at their worst when they reach the night clubs after drinking throughout an entire day. But I guess all that can be said is…welcome to Mardi Gras!

Photo courtesy of Just John

On The Scene: Culture Shock

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

The Saturday of this story begins with a rum and Coke. I call this my “upper”. Some nights I’m a bit tired to begin with. Rum and Coke serves as my caffeine. For more drastic resuscitations, there is Vodka and Red Bull. Drink in hand, I make a round through the bar, meandering from room to room, observing who is around.

There are the usual suspects, such as The Perfects. These are the guys who have every hair in place, really loud but clearly fashionable clothes. They generally are slim twinks. Sometimes they bring their equally, but non-threateningly, attractive girl friends. The Perfects tend to roam in packs and don’t acknowledge those outside their circle. They are more commonly gathered at Rehab. But once the Saturday night drag show is over, they migrate to Just John.

Then there are the Jocks. They range from toned young guys to muscle daddies. They dress more casually in tank tops and shorts, occasionally they wear backwards hats. They often have the loudest laughs and serious alpha vibes. I always get the impression that they just walked in straight from the gym.

The most entertaining group by far are the Straights. Sometimes they go with their gay friends. Mostly they go in couples. You can always tell when they are new. The guy leads the girl through the crowd. Her eyes are usually darting around like a scared doe in the woods. They either link arms or tightly hold hands, as if the boyfriend will be torn apart by gay men at any moment. And while there is always ridiculous behavior at gay bars, Straights manage to stand out in their drunken revelry.

One night, a friend and I watched a guy awkwardly dancing with a girl. He looked really uncomfortable. Later, he was lounging with a group of guys, his legs splayed over a guy’s lap. He looked at home. He switched between dancing with the girl and sitting with the guys throughout the night. Eventually, very late into the night, we walked past him making out with the girl. My friend stopped, rushed up to him, and whispered something to him. The guy swatted him away, appearing offended. When I asked my friend what he said, he told me it was, “don’t lead her on.” I went into hysterics over that and how bold he was, bluntly tell the guy that!

On another occasion, I was on the patio when I witnessed a woman twerking on her boyfriend. When I looked over to his reaction, he wasn’t even paying attention. He was loosely holding onto her while texting on his phone. She was absolutely working it for him and he couldn’t even fake interest! The Straights really take attention for granted.

Finally, there are the Free Agents. I consider myself one of this group. At our best, we can function within a group or go confidently on our own. Although, even when with a group, we keep an eye out. At worst, we will go alone but be extremely self conscious and skittish to interact. Some nights I’ve spent the whole time alone out of nerves or lack of confidence to approach someone. I’ve honestly experienced both ends of this dynamic.

We go alone to search for new connections, yet aren’t always willing to initiate these interactions. Some people think it is useless to go alone, being that most of the crowd at gay bars are friend groups who don’t socialize outside their own. Others have told me I am brave for going out alone. I don’t always like that attribution, either. I consider it more simple than that. It’s not a heroic quest, it’s simply that I believe I am not going to have experiences unless I put myself out there.

My approach as a Free Agent is to first make a circuit of the bar. This accomplishes two objectives. I’ll see if anyone I know is in attendance and signal to the crowd that I am alone, a Free Agent for the night. If I spot a potential Free Agent. I mentally tag them, but don’t immediately approach them. Sometimes they are waiting for friends to arrive. I’ll bide time by doing another lap around the bar. Sometimes they are easy to spot. I’ve noticed others roaming around the bar like forgotten Roombas.

On this night, I noticed a cute Latino guy enter the bar alone. He is short, shaved head, simply dressed in a sleeveless shirt and shorts. After all, it’s the middle of an August heat wave in Saint Louis. I noticed him in passing and kept on my path through the rooms, intending to investigate later on.

When later arrived, I was standing in the doorway to the main bar, observing the crowd. He happened to be nearby and dancing alone. He was at least smart about it. Dancing alone often signals “attention whore” to me. But he wasn’t on the dance floor. He was more discreetly dancing next to the wall. The good thing about people dancing alone is that it creates an easy ice breaker.

I walked up to him and told him he is a good dancer. While not totally certain of the validity of my compliment, it’s all I know to say to someone dancing alone. What else is there, ask if they need medical attention? He thanked me and then grabbed my hand to lead me in his rhythm. He said I was good too. He asked me where my boyfriend is. I told him I’m single and asked him in return. He said, “In Miami.” I was perplexed. He was dancing with me and making some flirty movements and looks, yet he just told me he has a boyfriend. Maybe it’s an open relationship? He’s visiting town from Miami? I tried my best to not seem unfazed and continued the conversation. I asked his name. Here we’ll call him Havana, as he is originally from Cuba.

Soon, the remix of Taylor Swift’s Fortnight played and I sang along with it. He asked if I like her music. I said yes, anticipating a judgmental comment to follow. He surprised me with, “you’re a romantic!” I replied, “Yes, I would say so.”

When the song ended, he asked if I wanted to go to La Calle. The minimal Spanish I retained from college made me think he was asking to go out to the street. I was confused, but agreed because I wanted to see where this would go. Once on the street, I looked ahead and realized that La Calle is the Mexican bar/restaurant across the street. I had always been curious about it, but hadn’t been inside. He then took my hand and we hustled over to it.

Once inside it was all strobe lighting and Latin pop music, which sounded like club music, only in another language. The other interesting detail was that almost no one was sitting in chairs or standing still. Most everyone was on the dance floor. Including us. We immediately went to the dance floor and Havana led me in the steps again. The atmosphere was vibrant and welcoming. It was exhilarating to be a part of it! After a while I was solely focused on him and I dancing, as if no one else was in the room. It felt like I was on an adventure. The flirtatious moves continued, eventually leading to kissing. Intuition told me the aforementioned boyfriend didn’t exist. After dancing for a while, I got tired and told him I wanted to go back outside. I was tired, but also just needed to take time to process the night’s escalation.

Back outside, we sat to finally have a conversation and learn more about each other. He doesn’t have a boyfriend, but recently broke up with one in Miami before moving to Saint Louis. He originally grew up in Cuba, but loves America and its culture. He told me he really appreciated me going to La Calle. He could tell I wasn’t familiar with any of the music, but it meant a lot to him that I danced with him there. I assured him I had a lot of fun dancing with him too, regardless of knowing the language. We exchanged numbers. More kissing ensued. The whole night seemed serendipitous, almost cinematic in its development. Until his next gesture.

He mimed giving oral and asked if I would suck him. I was stunned, only saying. “what?” I then stated I was not ready for that right now and tried to politely laugh it off. He said, “let’s go.” and grabbed my hand and led me down the street. I hoped we were going back to Just John. We turned into a vacant grassy lot between buildings. There was a bench with someone sleeping on it. Suddenly, the Rom Com movie had shifted into Horror territory. I planted my feet where I was and said I wasn’t comfortable with the situation. His lame attempt at persuasion was to tell me, “it’s just a difference in cultures.” As if declining sex is exclusively American of me? I told him it was getting late and I needed to get an Uber home. I returned to the street and did just that.

For some reason, this cosmic feeling washed over me, one that still lingers, that it wasn’t the last time I would encounter him. Despite my definitively ending the night, maybe the movie isn’t over. Roll credits, please.

Photo courtesy of Just John

On The Scene: Early Bird Special

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

The night of this story started early. Too early. I walked into Just John to find…mostly older men. I arrived early assuming a Ru Paul Drag Race viewing party would attract more people. As it turns out, if you arrive before 9PM you will find senior hour in full swing. I’m shocked there was no Bingo. Are gay bars secretly sponsored by the AARP?

To cement the concept, a man we’ll call Drunk Grandpa ambles over to the bar. For a moment I hoped he was just ordering a drink. But once there, he teeters over to me. His stellar ice breaker is this: “I’ve had a lot to drink already. I need to chill out for a bit before going back out.” What a prize. Luckily, he was just a friendly drunk. He asked typical things: where I live, have I been here before, what I do for work. He marveled at the fact that I go to bars alone. He asked me why I do it, as if I would have papers to prove my right to be there.

I never understand people finding it so unfathomable that a person could go to bars alone. As if I’m some Victorian citizen with a dirty novel. Even when people call it “brave” there is a tinge of pity to their words and awe in their eyes. Now that being gay is acceptable, being independent is the new social oddity.

Anyway, I gave him vague explanations such as I am a people watcher. That’s always an acceptable answer. The least charming part was having to say my answers three times, as he was hard of hearing. I quickly learned to keep my replies short and direct. Eventually, he left of his own accord, saying he was ready to go back out and drink. Please let this not be my only interaction with a man tonight.

Shortly after Drunk Grandpa’s exit, a group of 20-somethings in lobster themed clothing, pincers and all, arrived. I’m familiar with Pups and Furries, but lobsters are a new one. I asked the bartender if I missed a memo, and he asked them about it. They’re a bachelor party of coworkers whose favorite animal is the lobster. After a round of shots, one of them went onto the dance floor and did a lobster dance. Arms up, pincers open and closing, body scuttling from side to side. Shortly others joined him. You never know what you will see at Just John.

When I got tired of watching drunk lobsters, I went to sit on the patio for air. Only a few minutes later a woman walked over near me, muttering, “This is not what I ordered…This is not what I ordered.” Oh god, she is heading right for me. Please don’t engage. But she did. She was tall, read headed, maybe mid 30s, and intoxicated, constantly hiccupping. She introduced herself and pulled me up to dance to a country song I didn’t know. Afterwards, she called me a “baby gay” because I didn’t recognize the song. The dance was fun, but the conversation afterwards was pretty routine, just like the one with Drunk Grandpa. Once she meandered over to another person, I fled back inside to get another drink and sit at the bar again. Tonight, I must be a magnet for drunk people.

I sat at the bar with a Moscow Mule, watching people filter into the bar. One thing I’ve noticed about crowds at gay bars is they are filled with the guys who won’t talk to you online. Then a guy comes in that I wasn’t expecting. He is a bartender at another gay bar. He is tall, toned, and has a great smile. I’ve known him for a while and have always had a crush on him, but have only ranked as casual acquaintances. Even breaking into the friendzone is a challenge. We’ll call him Mr. Unattainable. When he walked in, the rest of the room fell away. It’s amazing how one person shatters your world. I forced myself to stay in my seat while he stood across the room talking to a bartender, then he walked out to the patio.

After a few more minutes, and a little more alcohol consumed, I got the nerve up to walk back to the patio and talk to him. When he saw me, his face lit up and he said, “Oh my god!” and he hugged me. That night was his first day off in two weeks. I told him I had no idea how he had the energy to be at the bar. He then stepped away to get a drink and talk to the DJ. After several minutes of standing by to see if he would return to our conversation, I sat down on the bench and accepted defeat. Mr. Unattainable continues to live up to his name.

While I sat and took stock of the night’s events, mule clutched in my hands, the door to the patio opened again. I first noticed his gleeful eyes pinning me immediately, then his cartoonish smile. It was Janus. With his boyfriend and third wheeling friend in tow. He made a bee line for me. He definitely recognized me, he even knew we were snapchat friends! But he forgot my name again. Before I could tell him, he asked for a hint. I gave an easy one and he guessed right. Like everyone else, he latched onto the fact that I came alone. He assumed I was looking for a man. I told him, “maybe, but I’m not desperate.” We caught up for a bit and when they went to wander the bar I opted to stay outside. I didn’t want to get sucked into another unpredictable journey.

Later, I wandered back inside myself and while I stood people watching, Janus ran to me again and asked if I would join his friends for a round of shots and a group photo. He assured me again that I would get tons of new snapchat friends from it. “That sure didn’t happen the first time,” I slyly informed him. This time I relented, “have liquor will travel” being a personal conviction. Vegas bombs were the shots of choice. I have to admit, I am starting to warm up to Janus a bit. He is definitely a “good time guy” friend to go out with. Before the group dispersed and went to another bar, Janus invited me to their plans for Saturday and Sunday. I did not end up joining, but there was a really special feeling to being asked to go along. I was in a group, but was not being forgotten. I was considered individually.

That night served as a perfect microcosm of the various experiences one may have at gay bars. Awkward encounters, yearning for the guy you can’t have, finding unexpected friends, and at the very best, a sense of belonging. They are a stage for the most human of experiences to play out. Heartbreak, hope, love, disappointment, first meetings, final partings. Some of you may read these experiences and wonder why I would continue visiting the bars. Gay bars are the land of eternal second chances. No two nights are exactly alike. Even after a disappointing night, I always think: Maybe next time will be better.

Photo courtesy of Just John

On The Scene: Do Overs

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

If you could do that night over again, what would you do differently? An interesting pattern I have noticed throughout my time at the gay bars is: every night feels like a fresh start. No matter what romantic misadventure I engaged in or social blunder I committed, The next weekend was wiped clean of any evidence. In all reality, the bartenders remember me as well as any friends made along the way. But events themselves seem completely forgotten. What happens at Just John doesn’t even stay at Just John. It disappears, seemingly sanitized from collective memory and the building itself. Last Saturday one of the greatest examples of this happened to me.

After feeling overwhelmed by the crowd at Rehab’s drag show, I fled to Just John for a calmer environment. While there is still dance music playing, the crowd is sparse early in the evening. The bar doesn’t start filling up until 10, when the drag show ends and people migrate over. I was standing on the patio, watching the crowd filter in when a man was passing by, glanced at me, then stopped in his tracks. It was Janus.

He stared at me with this cartoonish quizzical expression. He recognized me, but couldn’t place how or where. I silently nodded. Yes, we have met before. He then said with relief, “We have met before!” I wanted to figure out what he remembered, or didn’t, about our previous interactions, so all I said was, “Mardi Gras.” He reaffirmed and pointed at me, “yes, Mardi Gras!” You’re so full of shit. He then excitedly asked for my snapchat. I hesitated to give it right away, as I wondered if I was totally blocked after the last incident. But no, my username appeared when he searched and he added me.

This moment was when I felt like I had entered some other reality where our first meeting was erased from his memory. Everything in the bar was the same, except for Janus. I decided the best course of action was to go along for the ride. We walked a circuit around the bar and looked at the crowd before joining a group at a table. The only person I recognized was his boyfriend, who was as silent as before. After several minutes, I was not really brought into the conversation. I began to feel bored and discreetly exited the room.

Later, after a half hour of wandering the bar and people watching, I got a snap from him. He was at Handlebar and wanted me to join his group for a photo. And followed up offering to buy me a drink. I figured there was nothing to lose, so I left and crossed the street to meet them. We took a nice group photo and he tagged me in it, saying, “see how many gay guys add you now!” It took colossal restraint for me not to roll my eyes. You sure think a lot of yourself. the group broke up and they all ran to the dance floor. And no, I wasn’t offered a drink. I should have known that was too good to be true. Again, I felt bored, and not really needed, so I decided to return to Just John. Luckily, I bumped into a friend there and we danced away the rest of the night.

Getting a sort of do over with Janus was an interesting experience, if a little surreal. It reminded me how random and brief bar interactions are, as well as let me employ wisdom I gained from last time. I wasn’t worried about building a friendship or connection. I just decided to go with the flow of things and not consider anything outside that night. While his memory was wiped clean, his problematic personality remained intact. It didn’t bother me. If anything, it made me feel more comfortable with entering and exiting social situations at will. Not feeling obligated to hang around. I learned what I’d do with a repeat first meeting. I’d play it smarter.

Photo courtesy of Just John

On The Scene: First Impressions

On By Tanner EarlyIn Blog Posts, On The SceneLeave a comment

Saturdays always start with a vodka-soda and lime. My friend and I are at Just John’s, the night of Mardi Gras. I skipped out on the parade, not wanting to deal with a crowd of drunks milling around as if lobotomized. No, I wanted to rest up for the night time drunks. They are just as socially unaware, but at least the dance music and disco lighting keeps them moving.

My friend and I sit at a table in the far back of the room, watching the crowd gradually stumble in, ready to transition from all day partying to all night partying. No sooner than my friend had just left for the restroom did a trio of guys walk over to our table. The clear extrovert of the group, who will be known as Janus, asked if they could sit at the table. I took an uncomfortable pause, nervous of what could ensue from this. But curiosity and politeness won out and I said yes.

Janus introduced himself and his friends. Janus is short, thin, with dark hair. His boyfriend was a tall, slim blond. The other friend is stocky, middle aged, and seemingly the third wheel of the group. After a few minutes of them having their own side conversation, the couple started making out. I felt like a captive audience, as in Clockwork Orange captive. How does the third wheel friend deal with this?

Upon my friend’s return, I introduced him to the trio. Janus lit up with recognition and blurted, “is your last name…?!” It was. My friend later admitted they had chatted online but never met in person. Even so, it was a long time ago. In hindsight I should have noted that as a red flag. My friend, even intoxicated, knew this was bad news. He took it in stride really well though, keeping things light and friendly. Conversation flowed smoothly from there. The possibility of making new friends was refreshing. I dove into it with blind optimism, an attitude with which I’m not well acquainted.

I took a break for the restroom and when I returned my friend whispered something to me. All I could hear of it was “shots”. I was already buzzed and said no, but when I glanced across the table Janus was setting down a tray of shots. Taking this as a sign of burgeoning friendship, and with strict principles of not declining free alcohol, I took the shot.

When the conversation died out, Janus and his friends told us they were going to a nearby bar and invited us along. We politely declined. Before leaving, Janus offered to exchange snapchats. Riding the wave of optimism and vodka, I added him. He later sent a video of them at the next bar. It felt really nice being invited to a group. For someone who is often a wallflower at bars, it seemed so easy and natural.

But don’t forget, Janus has two faces.

A few days pass and I message Janus, intending to build on the foundation set from Mardi Gras. I asked how he was doing and told him we should hangout sometime. He invited me to a sporting event, but I declined. Because…it’s a sporting event. But we agreed to meet up sometime soon for drinks.

Not long later, I got a snap from another friend, but it was Janus using their profile. He asked how I know the mutual friend. I explained we had been chatting online but had not met in person yet. I asked him why he was messaging from his friend’s profile. He explained that he was in the car with the friend and had bought them a new car and multiple phones in the past. Shocked, all I could think to respond with was, “ah”. I didn’t want to reveal my concern. It appeared he was suggesting that because he bought the friend things, he had undeniable rights to their profiles. I could only speculate on what the friend’s role was in this. Did he consent to this? Was he aware of the intrusion? Did he feel he owed it to Janus for the gifts?

I never found answers. Shortly after my response I was blocked from both Janus and the mutual friend’s accounts. In a matter of minutes, two prospective friendships were erased. All things considered I had dodged a bullet, of course. But there is something deeply unsettling in the fact that he was talking to people through someone else’s profile. It makes me wonder how he treats that friend or how much invasive influence he has with them. I made a final effort to reach the mutual friend. I messaged them on Grindr, letting them know I had been blocked on his snapchat. Who knows if that was also screened by Janus. I never received a reply.

I suppose the lesson is not to fully buy into first impressions. Don’t be afraid to note red flags, even when you want to write it off as drunk behavior. If a guy knows your friend’s last name without ever having met in person, do not become their friend. Shots go down smoother without the bitter taste of leverage.